Power Struggles
by CalebKing
Summary: Or The Power of Names and other drabbles. Moving into the time-skip setting.
1. The Power of Names

A/N: I've been wanting to write an xxxHOLiC piece for a while, but while I love the Dou/Wata pairing, I'm not huge on slash.

Still, as Oddballs (and homework) has worked mutually to crash my brain, this little fic popped out, as I had to _write_ and yet don't have the time to finish the newest Odd chapter.

I also don't think anyone has addressed this point before…

* * *

**Power Struggles: ****The Power of Names **

_Names have power, _Yuuko liked to tell Watanuki, but the boy with the important (no crucial, essential, life-giving) name never seemed to pay enough attention to what she said.

Doumeki, though, understood.

Watanuki was a name that didn't often cross his lips. Yo, though...

And that was because Doumeki knew: that where his face never failed him, his voice would. And Watanuki, unfortunately for him, cared less about their relationship than he did – much less than he did, though he didn't doubt the other boy's capacity to care.

Doumeki just cared a whole lot more.

And this meant that Watanuki would always have something to control Doumeki with that Doumeki had no defense against.

_You have to **give **people power over you, Shizuka, _his grandfather had told him. _They can't just take it. _

He had learned that this was certainly true when pertaining to Watanuki, and was terrified (as terrified as Doumeki Shizuka could be) of someday stumbling out a '_Kimihiro_,' and watching those mismatched eyes widen in shock and horror.

So he didn't say his name whenever possible, because there was always the danger that Watanuki would stop yelling at that precise moment, and hear something Doumeki wasn't ready for him to hear.

Perhaps he was giving him too much credit, though. Watanuki could be incredibly dense when it came to his hated 'enemy.'

But it probably didn't help matters that watching a riled up Watanuki was one of Doumeki's silent, secret pleasures.


	2. The Power of Words

A/N: If you haven't read up to vol. 9, then it's sort of a spoiler. But if you haven't read up to there, you need to go to 'One Mange' and read it. Trust me on this.

I thought this was only going to be one chapter, but it turns out that 'one' is not a plausible number for me. So enjoy.

**Power Struggles:**

**The Power of Words**

(Otherwise known as 'warning.')

To Himawari-chan, words are important.

"Watanuki-kun and Doumeki-kun are such _good_ friends!"

She keeps smiling, through all of Watanuki-kun's yelling and hissing (he's such a cute cat), and Doumeki's steadfast ignoring of it.

For a moment, Doumeki's gaze rests on hers, and her smile freezes; he looks away, and she smiles widely at their bespectacled friend.

The words she gives to Watanuki are perhaps the most important she's ever uttered. In her entire life.

She both hopes and hopes against his someday realizing what they mean.

_Watanuki-kun and Doumeki-kun are such good friends…_

-

Watanuki never understands, but Doumeki does, and for now, that is enough.

It's enough so that she can be close. Close enough to know Watanuki still hasn't caught on, by some twist of luck or fate.

She doesn't want to consider if this luck is good or bad fate, because she already knows which it is.

So Watanuki might holler and screech after her usual words on their way home, but his attention is focused on Doumeki. It's her saving grace, she thinks with another smile.

They've lived through another day, and she makes a note to herself to tell Watanuki what good friends he is with Doumeki tomorrow.

_Watanuki, _she thinks at one of her only companions, _you __**have**__ to be good friends with Doumeki-kun._

-

Right before they part ways, Doumeki's eyes meet hers again, and she smiles.

He nods, understanding as always, and she continues on home, alone now, with the usual, extraordinary feelings that come from interacting with the two on a daily basis.

It's a strange mix of gratefulness, fear, bliss, anxiety, warmth and a foreboding chill.

Himawari-chan is sure that she is the most selfish person ever to live.

And as long as she can keep feeling these things, she thinks, she's going to be selfish enough to want them as often as she can.

Her affirmation of life and existence is probably in a horrible balancing act with the boys. Some days it can be hard not to hate herself, even if she has no control over the cause of it.

But as long as Doumeki stays by his side, she can keep seeing Watanuki, she reassures herself.

And Watanuki still hasn't realized how important her words are.


	3. The Power of Voices

A/N: Man do I ever love these characters. They go beyond deep. _Soo_ much fun to write. More spoilers; I'm too lazy to go see which volume it might be when Watanuki makes a turn around. You have been warned.

This is the last one, unless something really interesting pops up.

**Power Struggles:**

**The Power of (a) Voice**

Watanuki is screaming.

It's not like the times when he's being chased, or the times when Doumeki annoys him with requests or Yuuko tells him to buy _more _alcohol; it's like the time he was on fire, the time his parents' bloody hands let go of him.

He's screaming in his soul, because he isn't alive. And there isn't a handhold in any world or dimension that he can grasp onto or reach for that will save him this time.

-

Somehow, he's alive.

But as usual, he's not sure if he should be grateful for this.

-

However, there comes a day when Watanuki realizes he doesn't have to scream anymore (at least, not when he's not being chased by spirits and monsters).

But even as he realizes this, he pushes it to the back of his mind. Because there is a new reason to yell and holler; a new reason to make Doumeki stick his fingers in his ears and to make Himwari-chan smile as she thinks of cats.

They _know_ he is alive, and believe in his existence. It's important to them, and now it's become important to him.

He doesn't have to keep yelling for them to know this.

But he's going to keep yelling, anyways, so that they will know he knows, and that he's just as alive as ever.

Yuuko would probably approve, he suspects, while simultaneously berating her for finishing off the _sixth_ bottle.

Yuuko also knows he is alive. And that is like solid, granite fact, to Watanuki's new thinking.


	4. The Meaning of a Name

**Power Struggles:**

**The Meaning of a Name**

Sakura's name isn't really anything special.

She is the favored of the gods because of who she is; not because of her name.

But still, her name means something, something more than just pretty pink flowers decorating a tree that blooms in the spring.

Because what people are really celebrating when they go to watch the sakura, is the dying phases of the flowers. People might talk of how beautiful it is, the way the sakura petals drift to the ground in a pink snowfall, but Sakura herself knows differently.

Her mother died when she was young; Sakura loves her namesake, but she never forgets that her name will always be tied to death.

This isn't something that depresses her, though. Because her mother didn't regret giving her life, and her father loves her (she could never, never doubt that), and even Touya, who should hate her for taking away his most important person, fights even harder than Yukito and Tomoyo combined to keep her alive.

And when those others are brought to her attention as her magic grows, she knows she will have to teach them too, the ones touched by death at their naming; she must teach them that carrying death around isn't always so terrible a thing.

There are people who love them as well, people who need them to keep on existing, who will fight everyone and everything to see them come through all right.

But that love doesn't come from a name, but because of who they are: the beautiful, innocent, strong hearts that pull others to them. They are the ones who open their hearts for those who long for a home, and a place to belong.

That is why the gods look with favor at sakura.


	5. Unspoken Wishes

**Power Struggles:**

**Unspoken Wishes  
**

Watanuki Kimihiro knows exactly how Doumeki Shizuka feels about him.

Well, maybe not _exactly_, but close enough.

You don't give up body parts and large quantities of blood; risk your life and your future for someone who you feel ambiguous about.

And even Watanuki can't mistake the importance of _some_ actions.

But.

If he ever willingly, consciously acknowledges those feelings about himself, he's afraid he will begin to be satisfied with how much he already has.

And that would almost be akin to forgetting his promise.

Because though he may care for Doumeki (he's certainly not touching _those_ thoughts with a nine foot pole), he loves Yuuko, can't forget Yuuko - and he's already promised the rest of his existence to wait for her, so that he can grant her wish.

So he doesn't feel joy when Doumeki shows up at his back porch (how can the moron still not remember to use the front door?), and he's not reassured by the things Doumeki does for him outside the shop - and sometimes even within the shop.

They're all just reminders that he will never be able to grant Doumeki's unspoken wish, because he's already promised all he has for someone else's wish.

Watanuki doesn't think past granting her wish, either; he's not sure enough that he will ever have the chance to do so, though his time is frozen and they are connected by hitsuzen.

So Doumeki's persistent presence is frustrating – aggravating – irritating, because it only makes him feel guilty (which makes him angry - he never asked for this!) and Watanuki isn't good at dealing with guilt he can't resolve.

Yuuko may have laughed, may have wanted this exact thing, but no one (not even Yuuko - perhaps _especially_ not Yuuko) can control another's wishes, no matter how unwise or undesirable they are.

So he keeps Doumeki at a distance in a different way, a way he's learned from Yuuko.

Doumeki may sleep in the room next to his at times, and may spend more time _near_ him than ever before, but he's not getting close enough to change Watanuki's decisions.

* * *

But there are still moments amongst the long, long wait, when Watanuki's thoughts land on Doumeki, and how he's unintentionally changed Doumeki's life.

* * *

In many ways, Watanuki feels he has ruined the other man's life.

After all, if it weren't for him, Doumeki would have lived his life never able to see the shop, much less entering it to make costly wishes. He wouldn't be studying folklore, though he insists that it is interesting academically. But Watanuki remembers that Doumeki never mentioned an interest in folklore during high school.

Doumeki could have even tried to compete in archery as a professional; enough scouts had thought he'd had the talent. But instead he'd stayed at the temple, going to a nearby college, spending most of his free time at the shop with Watanuki.

It's like he's trying to freeze his time too, as though Watanuki is someone worth being with, but time rushes by, years passing faster than Watanuki could have ever guessed when this all started.

And he could regret it (has regretted it) but he knows by now that mentioning this just makes Doumeki angry. (He's learned in ten years which blank face and unwavering stare mean anger).

He still feels the same way about the choices he's all but forced on Doumeki, but he never mentions it anymore.

Doumeki is always Doumeki. And even forced, his decisions are his own.

So he doesn't say those things to him, and he doesn't say anything to Kohane-chan either, because she won't respond with anger; she'll just be hurt.

And while he'll willingly fight Doumeki on this, he'll argue knowing that Doumeki is as easy to budge as the mountains. Kohane-chan, too, is just as stubborn, but she flows around his efforts, still choosing her own way.

It's reassuring in a messed up, dysfunctional way. But that's become the norm in Watanuki's small world.

* * *

In other ways, Watanuki thinks that he might have improved Doumeki's life. Not in any way that could ever outweigh the negatives, but still...

Even Yuuko didn't appreciate his food to the extent Doumeki does, and sometimes Watanuki privately thinks that the other man might have starved half-way through high school had they not met.

And Doumeki may have been popular, but he was never close to anyone until Watanuki and Himawari's curses pulled him in as the neutralizing factor.

He's always been an excellent archer, but there's a difference between shooting in a competition, and shooting to save a life. Doumeki chose to find purpose in his half of their odd errands and interactions with the otherworldly.

And now Doumeki's building his future around someone and something most of the world will never know exists.

Watanuki might have wished in the past to stop him, but he won't now. He's afraid of how far Doumeki is willing to go (to pay) to stay beside him.

At the same time, he's still irritated - and flustered - by that unexpected persistence, even ten years in. He's reassured by that unwavering will in the face of his apparent apathy. There aren't many people like Doumeki Shizuka in any world: someone you can completely rely upon.

So Watanuki won't accept what goes unsaid, but he also won't pay the price to drive Doumeki away.

Watanuki doesn't think he would ever recover from that kind of wish.

* * *

A/N: This meandered along into interesting thoughts spurred by the way time-jump Watanuki acts (and allows Doumeki to act) and also by parts of xxxHOLiC Rou. Hope you enjoyed it!


	6. The Price of Wishes

**Power Struggles:**

**The Price of Wishes**

The day that Watanuki broke Himawari-chan's curse isn't special or significant to anyone else but them.

She doesn't realize what has happened at first; she's begun to distance herself from most people, preparing to cut off almost all interactions with the world, just so she can live with herself without guilt.

Enough people have been hurt - have died - she thinks.

So when Doumeki calls her and tells her what Watanuki has done, she's so angry she can't speak for long minutes; Doumeki doesn't ask her if she's all right – he's always understood her well.

Better than Watanuki does.

But the wish can't be undone; the cost can't be repaid.

Even with all his new power, he's sick and injured. Doumeki doesn't have to tell her specifics for her to understand this.

* * *

When Himawari-chan gets to the shop, she feels a deep welling of despair that might never end.

She can't _see the shop_.

She stands in the road where she knows – _knows _– it is, and sees an empty, abandoned field beyond a broken down fence.

By the time Doumeki comes out to find her, she's weeping so hard her eyes are swollen shut, crouched on the broken pavement.

She only says "it's not fair," one time, because out of anyone, Doumeki knows how unfair it is.

When she manages to bring herself under control, he helps her up and walks her home.

She calls several times every day after that, to check on how Watanuki is doing.

Doumeki is as patient as ever, telling her what she wants to know again and again.

For a little while, Himawari thinks that she might lose her mind, but then Doumeki puts Watanuki on the phone.

"How are you?" Watanuki's tired voice asks gently, and she closes her eyes on the other side of the line.

"Great!" she replies in her best chirp. It is all she can do for now to repay him, she thinks.

Watanuki chuckles.

"Good."

Himawari chats about her life, her most recent errands and things she's done. Because she can't say what she really wants to, after all. She needs to be able to see him face to face.

So as Watanuki is winding down the conversation, obviously exhausted, she asks quietly, "When can I come see you, Watanuki-kun?"

There is silence on the other side; she can't even hear him breathing.

"Watanuki-kun?"

She's suddenly worried he's fallen, or dropped the phone.

There's another chuckle, but it has real laughter behind it this time.

"I'll come see you in the spring," he promises, and she grips the phone, hard.

"April first," she suggests quickly, determined on this date.

He laughs again, then coughs, making her chest hurt.

"Yes, April first. We'll plan on it, okay?"

She nods emphatically, even though he can't see.

"It's a promise," she says, risking it all, terrified even as the words leave her mouth.

"A promise," Watanuki says on the other side, and there's a strength in the words that calm her racing heart a bit.

"Take care of yourself," she says sternly, and he agrees.

She sets the phone down in its cradle carefully, as though it really is connected to Watanuki.

She's going to be ready to see him by spring, she promises herself.

* * *

Later, she calls Doumeki, and they make their own arrangements for the day.

Finally April first comes, and Himawari walks to where the store is, her hair partially down, one of her favorite dresses on.

The broken down fence and field are still there, but she has faith, and waits patiently by the ruined gate.

She's waited so long, it's hard not to jump in surprise when they do step through, appearing in an instant, one of Doumeki's hands gripping Watanuki's forearm.

They look about the same, though Watanuki is wearing a heavily embroidered outfit, and Doumeki a buttoned-up shirt and slacks.

Watanuki glances upward, to the left of Himawari's shoulder, and Doumeki's head follows an instant later, as they both regard something Himawari can't see.

For a moment she is afraid that her curse isn't gone, that asking this of him will really kill him this time.

"Yo," Doumeki says in greeting, and she smiles widely, almost laughing from nervous joy as one of Watanuki-kun's eyebrows twitches irritably.

If Doumeki can be normal, then she won't worry, she reminds herself.

"Hi!" she greets him back, and then her attention is all for Watanuki-kun.

"Happy Birthday, Watanuki-kun!"

He smiles happily at her, not like he used to, but calm and serene.

Watanuki has grown, she thinks, surprised.

And though she hasn't given him her present, or even given him any warning, she steps forward, _wishing_, and wraps her arms around his shoulders. She brushes against Doumeki-kun too, and thinks that it is only right.

For a moment Watanuki doesn't respond at all, she's so shocked him, but then he feels the minute trembling in her arms, and his own instinctually come up to hold her back, squeezing too hard for just a moment, 'til he finds the balance.

Himawari can't stop the two quick tears that drop onto his clothing, but she doesn't want him to know that she's cried, so she stands in his arms longer than she had planned, giving him a gift beyond worth.

She's bright and smiling when they both draw back, and so, so fragile.

It's the first hug she's given anyone other than her parents and her grandmother, her first hug in so many years.

"Watanuki-kun?" she asks, because even if she breaks, she has to be strong for this one chance.

"Yes?"

"I have a wish… Do you think you could grant it?"

* * *

For a moment there is panic in Watanuki's eyes, and then what she thinks must be the mask of the shopkeeper descends over his face.

"That depends on what your wish is," he murmurs softly, and Doumeki-kun's hold on his arm tightens. Himawari is sorry then, for having caused him worry.

"Can we go inside?" she asks, and Watanuki glances backwards, as though the shop might have disappeared in the few moments he had his back to it.

Doumeki loosens his hold though, and looks at her, and they quickly exchange glances while Watanuki's attention is elsewhere.

"We'll go inside," Doumeki-kun says without compromise, and almost hauls Watanuki back through the gate.

"Hey!" the shopkeeper objects, and suddenly the old Watanuki is waving his arms, trying to break free.

It doesn't work (has never worked) and so right before they disappear through the gate, one flailing hand grabs hers, and pulls her through.

Her low-heeled sandals click against the stone walkway leading up to the shop's front doors, and Himawari-chan can't speak for all the emotions that have jumped into her throat.

_It worked, it worked, it worked!_ she rejoices inwardly, and barely catches Mokona-kun as he jumps up to greet her.

The twins dance around Watanuki, even though he's only been gone a few moments, and then circle around her, their pale eyes fathoms deep as they chant nonsense.

"Come on in," Watanuki-kun tells her, then glares at Doumeki-kun.

"You could at least go get the food, you... Doumeki!"

Doumeki obediently walks off to the kitchen, and Watanuki leads her to the porch.

The sakura tree here is still in full bloom, and for a moment Himawari just enjoys it.

She's always loved sakura.

"Himawari-chan!" he calls her attention back to him. "Come sit down?"

She joins him at the edge of the porch, perching cautiously, still unsure of her new place here, without Yuuko to balance them all.

"Himawari-chan. What is your wish?"

She imagines that the leaves and petals on the tree freeze, awaiting her answer.

"My wish … is to see Watanuki-kun every year on April first," she says, wishing recklessly, desperately, and with all her might.

There's only an instant that he's surprised, and then his eyes are narrow and focused, and his gaze goes beyond her, as though looking into the far distance, or into another world. She imagines the scales that have judged her life since the day of her birth, and wonders if they are tipping even further out of line.

A sudden wind whips her hair to the side, brushes his bangs so that she can clearly see the two colors of his eyes.

"I can grant that wish," he says solemnly. "The price... has already been received."

She's so surprised that she jumps forward and grabs his wrist, afraid he's gone and paid something without her knowing again, and might soon collapse.

But the wind dies down and he blinks, smiling at her in that new way that breaks her heart and repairs it all at the same time.

"That was easy," Watanuki jokes, and she laughs, a sob almost breaking free in the middle of it.

She's so _selfish_, _selfish_, she thinks, but doesn't dare take her wish back.

"Good," she says instead, and lets go of his wrist. Right now she doesn't need to know what the price was, if Watanuki is okay.

Doumeki is suddenly setting down a tray of food and tea, obviously prepared by Watanuki's skilled hand.

She thinks he must have heard them, hopes he has, for he is a crucial piece in their friendship.

Doumeki hands her a plate, and suddenly she remembers the small bag hanging on her arm.

"Oh, I brought some Madeleines today! Please enjoy them."

Watanuki takes the bag from her, and opens it eagerly. He's always appreciated her gifts, insufficient as they might be, she thinks.

"Did you make them yourself?" he asks out of habit, but she pauses in what she's doing and looks at him.

"Yes."

Watanuki's head jerks up in surprise, and even Doumeki's eyebrows raise, while Himawari smiles sunnily.

She's not going to let the balance hang so heavily on their side from now on.

She'll never be able to repay Watanuki for what he's done, but she doesn't need to - he doesn't want that. But Himawari has finally figured out how to grant some of his wishes, too.


	7. Parallel Paths

**Power Struggles:**

**Caring**

Doumeki doesn't know when irritation turned suddenly to caring, but because he wasn't watching himself (or maybe it's because he started watching Watanuki?), his life has been turned upside down.

They certainly didn't get along in the beginning. Or in the middle. Or even now.

If you asked Watanuki, Doumeki still despises him and finds him irritating beyond measure.

But there is no one else with whom he spends his time and energy as he does with Watanuki. It's a messed up kind of friendship, and he wonders sometimes whether this is more Watanuki's fault or his. Neither of them are at all ordinary, yet he would gratefully have accepted a simpler kind of relationship had he been given the chance.

But with Watanuki, the choices are far and few between, and almost never offered by the man himself.

* * *

Even though it was the night of the hundred ghost stories that Doumeki learned he could shoot arrows that didn't exist on the physical plane, and caught a glimpse of the things Watanuki had to go through on a regular basis, he wasn't committed to walking a parallel path to the other boy because of it.

Angel Player was the start; when he started to realize that the things Watanuki was involved in could get him - could get them both – killed. Maybe it was the danger, or the adrenaline, or just the terror and hopelessness in the other boy's eyes, but when he'd succeeded in pulling Watanuki up onto the rooftop, and had heard him yelling again – and felt relief – he knew he was doomed.

There's frustration upon frustration that comes after those experiences, as he discovers the stubbornness, the mule-headedness – the sheer _perversity _that lies under the ranting lunatic front.

At first Doumeki tries to resist caring.

He hasn't felt much of anything since his grandfather's death, and being around Watanuki for any length of time causes him to feel _too _much.

Like a torrential rain after a drought, he can't handle all the emotions flooding in, and they overflow out of his control as sharp insults and retorts, rude manners and heavy silence.

That Watanuki is just as annoyed by being around him does not make it better.

But the food is good (no, amazing). And Kunogi isn't as irritating as he had expected – he finds himself keeping an eye on her, trying to puzzle out the relationship between the other two without either of his other companions noticing.

He may not be comfortable with or used to all this _feeling_, but he's surprisingly loath to go back to the mere existing he had been doing.

* * *

Then he loses Watanuki.

At first he thinks the other boy has just crawled too far, or perhaps he's hiding from him as a strange kind of payback for speaking to Kunogi. But after circling the hydrangea, and calling for the other boy until his voice starts going hoarse, he knows Watanuki has disappeared.

It's too much like Haruka, is his subconscious thought, and he doesn't even realize he's called his grandfather by his name in his distress. Suddenly he's on his knees digging, though that same subconscious is whispering that it's useless.

But Doumeki can't do nothing.

When a stray rock rips into his palm, he flinches, coming back to himself. His hands are dirty and torn, and he doesn't remember dropping the umbrella, but it's sitting a few feet away, still open, and he's soaked to the bone.

When Watanuki had come to fetch him he had not been dressed for the weather. It's been a mild day, but unless Watanuki shows up soon, it's going to be dark, and then cold.

Doumeki sits down, resting legs that have cramped up, never mind how many tea ceremonies his grandfather had made him practice growing up.

He stares at the dirt that's been overturned by his efforts and then at his hands.

Obviously digging is not the answer.

Doumeki takes a cleansing breath and arranges himself into a meditative pose. He's never had his grandfather's power to see spirits or to interact with them, but that's no reason to believe he'll never see them.

After all, he'd seen the Zashiki-Warashi briefly on Valentine's Day, though he hadn't known what she was at the time, and now the Ame-Warashi had given them this task.

Surely being around Watanuki so much will rub off some of the boy's overflowing talent.

And he _knows _that's not how it works, but he closes his eyes anyway and tries the focusing drill his grandfather taught him when he was seven.

Later on, Doumeki will only remember the following hours hazily, like a nightmare that lingers at the edges of your mind when you've woken.

He is not counting the hours, so he doesn't know what time it is when he looks up and sees Yuuko there.

Her face is closed - mysteries veiled – and faintly disapproving.

He wants to protest this – he's tried everything he knows – but then she smiles at him. It's too bright for the circumstances, and Doumeki feels dread curl in his stomach.

"Still haven't figured it out?" she asks, and squats gracefully next to him.

Doumeki just grunts.

Yuuko hums thoughtfully, and the hand not holding her umbrella reaches out and points at the hydrangea.

"Only you can get him out."

He doesn't have the energy to glare.

"So what do I do?"

Her eyes are crafty, and he rubs his forehead tiredly with the back of his wrist.

"And what is it going to cost?"

Yuuko practically beams at him.

The terms are quickly agreed upon, and then Yuuko is pointing at the limp end of one of Kunogi's hair ribbons.

Doumeki scowls (he can't help it, exhaustion has worn down all his manners), because if the ribbon has been hanging like that all along, he'll never take a bite of Watanuki's food again.

The passing thought that he really _won't _unless he retrieves the boy spurs him back to action, and he pulls the crumpled ribbon out.

"Hold it out. If Watanui has the other one, he should notice you holding out your ribbon. Until he notices, you have to keep holding yours," Yuuko says, helpful now that he is indebted to her.

Doumeki silently obeys, and the ribbon _lurches _straight down and then under the lowest lying branches.

Doumeki doesn't know what he's waiting for until suddenly there's a weight to the ribbon that is against all logic. Not even a minute later Watanuki's hand emerges from under the bush, gripping the other end of the white ribbon, the rest of him following behind.

Somehow Watanuki still has the energy to rant and rave at him and, fed up with the whole evening and night, Doumeki turns away.

Oh yes, he cares, he thinks bitterly. Nothing his grandfather taught him has prepared him for this. Ten hours of exhaustion and effort and giving up heirlooms, with no clue of what is going on and no way of knowing what _to_ _do_.

And there's no turning back.

* * *

A/N: I'm getting inspired by the closing up of the series! More to come.


	8. Doumeki's Power

**Power Struggles:**

**Doumeki's Power  
**

There are nights that Doumeki dreams of a little boy crying.

He never knows exactly where he is in these dreams, for the house is large and unfamiliar.

In the many walks he has taken around the house (really a mansion) Doumeki has never seen another living being, human or animal, spirit or ayakashi. If the last two can even be considered living.

The cries are enough to break anyone's heart, and despite his demeanor, Doumeki likes children. He doesn't really know how to handle them, but ever since he stopped being a child himself, the parishioners who bring their children to the temple inevitably find them near Doumeki when it is time to leave.

So it's not that Doumeki is unmoved at the wrenching cries that echo through the empty halls.

It's just that he knows how the dream will end, or rather, that he will always wake at the same point.

Tonight he's restless as he walks the halls; the crying seems more desperate than usual, more heart broken, if that's possible.

After exploring only a few avenues, Doumeki heads to the center of the house.

That's where the boy always is, after all.

The child is young, though Doumeki can only guess at his age.

He's never seen his face, just small hunched shoulders, thin arms with lingering baby fat, and ink black hair.

Doumeki comes to the room, and slides open the door.

He has never been able to go further, though he has looked up incantations and sutras in his grandfather's books, hoping to break whatever barrier holds him back.

Doumeki has been having this dream on and off for months; tonight he calls for the boy's attention, shouting and yelling, though he knows that in the end it's all useless.

There is no reaction from the child.

Frustrated, Doumeki turns away; he's going to be dozing off during school tomorrow at this rate, for these dreams do not leave him with peaceful sleep.

He punches the wall, surprised when it actually hurts.

He shakes his hand out carefully, afraid he might have broken a bone, and suddenly worried that he'll wake and find his fingers mangled beyond repair – and then he suddenly realizes the crying has stopped.

Doumeki whips around, scared the boy has disappeared, leaving him in this dream alone.

Instead, bright blue eyes shine from a botchy face; a beautiful, fragile face that is strangely exotic.

Doumeki takes a step, and rolls off his futon.

His grandfather is standing beside him, one dark brow raised in amused inquiry.

"It's a prophetic dream," his grandfather tells him over a pot of hot tea, having listened patiently to Doumeki's recounting of all the dreams combined. "Your destiny has been tied with his, though for now I don't know why, or what for. If you have the dream again, come tell me, Haruka."

Doumeki Haruka does not dream of the boy again after that night.

He makes friends with a young fox spirit a month later, who has taken lodging in one of the hollowed oak trees at the back of the temple grounds, and he slowly forgets the crying boy.

Haruka's grandfather dies, and the temple passes to his father.

Haruka waits until he is 19 before asking to take on the temple duties.

When he's 22, his father turns the running of the temple over to him.

He gets married when he is 25; a little old for his generation, but he discovered women late.

Years pass, and he has his own son.

Haruka considers selling the temple to a friend. He's getting older, and his wife wants to move, to have less responsibilities of cleaning and welcoming constant parishioners. His son is not interested in the temple; does not have the sight.

His wife's death is sudden, and the upheaval that ensues puts Haruka off thoughts of leaving the temple.

It is his home.

His son and daughter-in-law move in six months later, with their three-year-old baby.

When little Shizuka is a month past his seventh birthday, Haruka wakes up in an unfamiliar house.

But no; this house _is _familiar.

He walks the hallways, uneasy. It's been more years than he can remember since these particular dreams haunted him, yet he remembers what his grandfather had told him about destiny.

His feet remember the way, which is good, for he's preoccupied, trying to remember what he has forgotten.

It's only when he's sliding open the door that he realizes: there is no crying.

Haruka steps inside the room before he can think to do otherwise.

He stares around the room, filled with furniture and flowers, tea cups on a table and books piled near the wall. This is not the room of his dreams.

And yet it is.

The boy is there, dressed like before, sitting in the exact place he had always sat in the previous dreams.

He's crying, too. But the sobs that shake his body don't make a sound, and it takes Haruka a minute to realize that he can only hear the gasps for air the child must take to breathe every few seconds.

Years of training, of learning, of watching, explain the dreams to Haruka, in a way his grandfather could never have discerned.

The knowledge almost breaks him.

A child shouldn't have to be this strong. All alone, he should be able to wail, to scream his fear and loneliness.

And Haruka wonders what _he_ has done, to deserve to walk inside this boy's heart.

Much later, he doesn't remember the words he says to catch the child's attention, but he remembers the endless despair that looks out from blue eyes when he crouched beside him.

Haruka has comforted his grandson on occasion, when neither his son nor daughter are around when Shizuka has tripped or fallen. That was not preparation for _this_, but he still wraps his arms around the child – the only thing he can do.

This time, he feels the dream coming to an end, the little boy, Kimihiro, dozing in his arms. He wants the power to hold back waking, to have the time to comfort more. He wants to be there when Kimihiro wakes up, all alone in that house.

But no amount of training can hold back time for Haruka, and he wakes with tears on his own face.

The next day, when his daughter asks him to watch Shizuka as she goes to the store, he takes the boy's hand and leads him out to the cherry trees.

"Did you know that a little girl used to climb up that tree?" he asks his grandson, the short hair and wide eyes the very image of himself from years ago.

Shizuka looks up at the branches, far overhead and just starting to bloom with spring's promise. He shakes his head, face solemn.

"She loved these trees so much, Shizuka, that even after she got older, she never forgot about them. Look. Can you see her sitting there?"

Shizuka looks up seriously to where his grandfather points, trying hard to obey one of his favorite people in the world.

But he doesn't see anything.

Haruka ruffles the short dark hair, smiling a little.

"It's okay if you can't, Shizuka. She's there, watching us both. I'll tell you all about her, and the others. I think they would like that."


	9. Definition of Family

**Power Struggles:**

**Family**

When Watanuki finally stops tripping over the long robes and kimono, and the harried look fades from his eyes, he finally tells Doumeki of his dreams of Sakura and Syaoran, and the final dream he walked with Syaoran, as they made their decision to stay, and to go.

Doumeki doesn't interrupt once, doesn't pick up his tea cup or ask for sake, doesn't even take a bite of the food Watanuki has set down on the table.

If Watanuki had been less focused on recounting (reliving) the experience, he would have found this extremely disconcerting, and completely out of character.

But by the time he lifts his gaze from the dark wood of the table, Doumeki's mouth is stuffed, one cheek puffed out with too much food.

Watanuki's eyebrow twitches with irritation, and he feels his blood pressure building - and then lets it go, remembering that last view of his other self - the original existence that started this all, and somehow he doesn't have the energy to yell at Doumeki.

As for the archer, he fills his mouth so that words don't fall out, because yet again, he's afraid of what he might say.

He doesn't really care how Watanuki came to be, though it certainly explains a few things - like why ayakashi were so attracted to his very existence. But he feels like the deck has been stacked against him, for even though Watanuki is close to only a handful of people, it seems to Doumeki that those others at least have been able to stand at the edge of dimensions with him, while Doumeki can only _interfere_ when Watanuki is too incapacitated to object.

And Watanuki doesn't know that the tone of his voice gives him away; he loves the princess he has spoken of, and he cares even more for the boy who shares his existence. He misses them, and Doumeki who is always around when he can get the barest chance can't help a momentary flash of resentment.

But it's impossible to hold onto; those two are the closest Watanuki has to family, for though the tale has been confusing at best, Doumeki has picked out enough pieces to realize that within them live Watanuki's parents: the only relatives he'll ever have.

He doesn't have to recall Haruka's funeral to know the pain Watanuki has lived with most of his life.

A thought occurs to him, something Watanuki has not said but which is certainly a possibility.

"He has to keep travelling?"

Watanuki has moved on to other things, like re-filling Doumeki's cup, and has to take a moment to place Doumeki's question.

"Yes, that was his price," he agrees, no hint of anger or irritation in his voice.

Doumeki's gaze pins him, and Watanuki silently curses his inattention.

There's only Maru and Moro and Mokona to interrupt if they fight now, and Watanuki has said some harsh things since Yuuko's death, without her there to mediate or to divert the path of his anger. It's why he is trying to learn to hold his tongue, though if Doumeki hasn't been scared off by now, nothing Watanuki says is going to budge him.

"Will they come here?" Doumeki asks, and Watanuki feels pierced by the question, and uncertain of why Doumeki must know this.

There is so much he can say in answer, but he only replies, "Yes."

Doumeki's gaze hasn't lessened; he feels the weight of it though he won't meet the archer's eyes.

"Don't hide them from us," Doumeki says, and then fills his cup with sake, discussion over.

Watanuki wants to be angry, or maybe clueless, but instead he looks away, understanding what has prompted this rare speech from Doumeki.

And now that the other man has brought up the subject, he realizes that he _wants _the two parts of his life to meet. That they can at all is a miracle – a kinder hitsuzen than he is used to.

So rather than biting his head off for his presumption, Watanuki just nods.

He's already planning the menu in his head for that day, an unconscious smile lightening and softening his features.

Doumeki's eyes widen, and he swallows without properly chewing; struggles not to cough, and instead laughs, startling them both.

The changes to their lives are like this: slow and steady, startling and jarring, uncomfortable and painful.

The only constant is Watanuki's connection to them all: his existence makes them a family.


	10. The Dream Seers

**Power Struggles:**

**The Dream Seers**

Sakura carefully aligns her thoughts to a certain landscape and person as she falls asleep.

It's like travelling with Mokona, and yet not like it at all; it's also like standing in the cleansing cavern and listening to the voices that flow through the air: all the priestesses that have gone before whispering around her. It's similar to the feel of Syaoran's magic as it wraps protectively around her again, and again, and again.

She opens her eyes to see a large, blooming sakura tree. Passing by it, she smiles faintly in fond remembrance. Just as she approaches the low porch, the shouji slides open.

Watanuki smiles at her, a small tray balanced on his left hand.

"It's been a while, Sakura-chan."

She smiles brightly at him.

"I followed your instructions," she tells him needlessly. "Thank you for sending them with Syaoran."

The shop keeper smiles again at the mention of his other self, and sets down the tray on the porch. He offers her a hand up, and she steps onto the porch beside him, now able to see all of the yard beyond, and the moon above the tall, tall buildings that surrounded them.

"How are Syaoran, and Fai; Kurogane and Mokona?" he asked. "It's been several weeks since they stopped by."

She kneels carefully, moving layers of cloth behind her. This time her dream-self wears the layered robes of her coronation as Heir, instead of the flowing dress from before. She takes a moment to wonder why this has changed. Watanuki sits at the edge of the porch, his own silk robes spreading out around him with a soft _shushing_ sound.

"They're doing well. But I heard that you weren't."

Her eyes rebuke him.

Watanuki chuckles. "Is that the reason for your visit?"

She nods once, face stern.

"Syaoran was upset."

Watanuki's eyes widen a bit. His other self had hidden that from him during their visit; he had thought he had been recovered enough by then to hide his slight infirmary. But the four were all becoming more perceptive and powerful in their own ways, and they had reasons to watch him closer than they had been able to in the past.

"I'm all right now," he assures the princess. "Doumeki and Kohane-chan always lecture me when things happen."

Sakura's face relaxes. "Good. Hopefully I can help too, now that we can meet again."

Watanuki makes a face, and they both laugh.

"I made some fruit-filled buns earlier today. Please try some."

Sakura's eyes glow with excitement.

"Thank you. Fai and Mokona always talk about your food when they come, but they never think to bring anything with them!" Her light laugh fills the air immediately after her complaint. "Or maybe they just pretend to forget, and finish it off before they come to Clow Country."

Watanuki chuckles too. "That sounds like something Mokona would do. But I never thought to send food with them. I'm sorry."

Sakura shakes her head. "You don't have to. Now I get to enjoy it _and_ say thank you in person."

She picks up a lightly browned bun and takes a generous bite. Watanuki smiles softly as she chews with her eyes closed, and leans back to stare at the dark sky of their dream.

"If we have time, I'll show you around the shop," he says impulsively, and she swallows and looks at him, surprised.

"The last time you were here you were asleep - and even that wasn't exactly _you_," he explains. "Not many people come here," he adds, more subdued.

Her face seems to gain a tinge of sadness, but she nods in understanding.

"I'd love to see your home," she murmurs, and reaches to cover his hand with her own. "Then I won't be a guest anymore, but a visitor."

Watanuki blinks at her choice of words, and then his smile spreads slowly, all the way to the back of his eyes.

"Yes. You're always welcome."

* * *

Watanuki wakes suddenly, his hands clutching at white sheets, as though to hang on to whatever he had seen just moments ago.

He sits up, one hand coming to cradle his face.

With a start, his hand jerks away, searching the bed beside him.

"Maru? Moro?" Neither girl responds, and he realizes: it is another dream.

With a nearly silent sigh he slides out of bed and pulls on the silvery gray kimono that lays at the bottom of the bed, belting it loosely as he walks through the shop towards the veranda. He isn't sure who his visitor is; it isn't Haruka-san, or Sakura-chan, yet the feel of their magic is familiar.

His step falters, and his heart begins beating at double speed.

He clutches at the cloth above his heart, instantly denying the hope that has sprung to life. It isn't _her_, either, unless she has truly changed - and he can't imagine her changing so much.

With a slower step, he gains the largest room in the shop, which opens out to the porch.

With a trembling hand he slides open the shouji, as he has done countless times before.

Her back is to him, and at first he can almost sustain hope. But then she spins around to face him, sensing his presence, and his hope retreats to the small space hidden behind his breastbone.

"Sakura...chan?"

The familiar face smiles - no, _beams_ - at him.

"You can call me that, if you like. And _you're_ Watanuki Kimihiro-san."

Her green eyes are deep and serene, like a gazing pool that Watanuki knows he's once seen, yet could almost swear he's never been to.

"It's a beautiful evening here," she says, tone gently wistful. "In Tomoeda, it was storming."

Watanuki reaches for one of the roof supports with an unsteady hand.

"You're Sakura," he replies, feeling slow; it reminds him of the early days with Yuuko, and he resents it, being reminded of her just as he'd shoved his hopes back into the dark. "But not Sakura-_chan_."

She shakes her head slowly, and steps closer. He can see now that she has several years on Sakura-hime, and her clothes are that of his world. A pale green skirt waves gently in the evening breeze around her knees, and a delicate blouse with green trim that Himawari would have liked adorns her older form.

"I'm sorry to show up unannounced, but I had a vision, and since the other me doesn't remember how to find me, I wanted to leave the message with you."

Her eyes shift; seem to reflect the pain he keeps hidden from his friends and companions.

"And I wanted to see you, too," she admits quietly. The sincerity of her words collide with his soul, soothing as they jar his perceptions about himself.

"I wanted to see the one who is so like my dear Syaoran-kun."

Without him noticing, she has drawn close enough to reach up and touch his cheek.

The purity of her magic scorches through him with just that touch, and he shudders.

Yet when she pulls her hand away, places he had forgotten were broken now hum with wholeness. Injuries he had chosen to hide and live with are no more.

"Syaoran-kun and I are going to have a baby," she whispers. "And I think that those two, too, will someday bear an heir for Clow's country."

Watanuki sucks in a deep breath, his legs suddenly unsteady again.

Those green eyes, so like the princess's yet situated in such a different face, bearing a vastly different life, turn distant.

"Because they share the memories of those others, you hope that they will someday be the people you lost. But it is precisely because they hold those memories that they cannot be your parents."

Watanuki feels as stiff as a statue, yet fragile as china, just waiting for the blow to re-shatter him. This Sakura is not the Sakura-chan he knows; this one has the power to destroy him, even after she has built him back up.

Her green eyes are nothing like Yuuko's, yet the expression in them reminds him distinctly of the witch.

For an eternity she reads his heart, not missing a thing. For a moment Watanuki longs for a missing presence.

But then she sighs, and looks away, wistful.

Watanuki looses the breath he had been holding.

"I wondered if he would be like you, you know. But you are unique, Kimihiro-kun, and perhaps not to be repeated."

There are too many things that she is implying, and Watanuki can't take them in.

"There have been a few like that. Clow-sama, Eriol-kun, Miho-sensei… your Yuuko-san."

Watanuki isn't prepared for the blow to come from this direction, and he can't take the necessary breath in. It would be his luck, to suffocate in a dream.

A warm hand cradles his face.

"It's okay; it's all right! Everything is going to be all right," she says, comforting him with the lightest of spells, and perhaps sending a jolt of magic through him, to restart his heart. "There's no telling what the future might bring. You will be all right, Kimihiro-kun."

Watanuki slides painfully to the wood of the porch as the words of her promise flow over him, and Sakura descends right along with him.

At first tentative, she puts her arms around him, and when his shoulders shake, she strengthens her hold.

In a flash they both remember a memory, no longer Watanuki's, and never Sakura's. Yet it was Sakura who had been holding him then.

Without realizing, she murmurs the same soothing words into his ear that _that_ Sakura had spoken then, his black hair soft against her cheek, and Watanuki - the baby and the young man - relax against her.

Sakura holds him, amazed, for he has recognized her as _that _person, and she can't deny the inexplicable love she now feels; that she already feels for the baby inside herself.

She brushes trembling fingers through his long hair, and is almost tempted to kiss his forehead. But no, not yet, they aren't _quite _that close yet.

"Kimihiro-kun, I came because there _is _no other you. Your existence is not Syaoran-kun's, though you are tied so closely that most will never see the difference. And the Syaoran-kun of now has chosen to set aside his other memories. Kimihiro... I came because I want you to know me. You can call me anytime, and I will come," she promises, wanting with a mother's heart never to leave, already feeling guilt that she _has _to leave.

Watanuki's watery chuckle blows air across her neck.

"Thank you."

He can't say he instantly understands, because he doesn't. He doesn't know this Sakura, _and yet he does_, and her offer is beyond what he had ever expected, from her or from any of the others.

With her own laugh, she adds, "My lap probably isn't big enough for you anymore, but I _will _answer to 'Mommy'."

* * *

Watanuki wakes up between Maru and Moro, and doesn't need to check to know that there are tears on his cheeks, and a painful smile on his lips. He feels all of eight, and eighty years old.

But he's not alone.

* * *

A/N: This came out of a desire for Sakura-chan and Watanuki to reconnect, and then headed a whole other direction, which was the no-parents issue: Watanuki has to lose his memories of his parents, which aren't even his memories at all... and the people who had once been his 'parents' he mentored through their journey as teens! Yuuko might have been like a (dysfunctional) parent to him, but she's gone. There are at least two sets of Sakura-and-Syaorans alive out there, _someone parent the boy! _Ahem. End rant.


End file.
